


Under the Stairs

by Grey_sky_BG90



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (it hardly hurts Harry), Crack Treated Seriously, Dark, Daydreaming, Gen, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Headcanon, Horcruxes, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Torture, Some Humor, Torture, Trapped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29667921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grey_sky_BG90/pseuds/Grey_sky_BG90
Summary: "Harry sat up, then thought better of it and laid down. He was breathing normally, but he could feel it in his bones.The adrenaline of the night was finally fading, Voldemort was back, Cedric was caught and most likely trapped as well - and Harry could do nothing. He started laughing. A hysterical sound that made him shake from head to toe.It was simply too ironic that after eleven years of his life were spent in a cupboard - he was trapped in one again.And the best part? So far Harry thought this wasn't too bad."____________A crack prompt written seriously.... (What if Voldie tried to torture harry by locking him in a small cell and kept him isolated? Of course, Harry having grown up in a cupboard is hardly affected)
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Under the Stairs

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> Minor character deaths, Character goes Mad (They're kinda a minor character but dw they're not mentioned much in this), trapped in isolation for long periods of time & Voldemort being himself.
> 
> Comment if I missed anything, this story is lowkey crack but written seriously so beware!)

Harry was panicking. 

Of course, this was normal ever since he was forced to compete in the Triwizard tournament, but he never expected this. His hands tied behind him, his left eye swollen shut, and Cedric in a very similar situation next to him. Both were on their knees due to the Death eaters holding them down, and while Cedric looked ruffled he mostly looked scared. 

Voldemort was _back._

His snake-like face had sneered once he was resurrected, but seeing Harry and Cedric his eyes lit with a sick joy. The Dark Lord held a hand out and a Death eater previously kneeling handed him what looked like an old nail. Voldemort flicked his wand lazily and created a portkey. The two Death eaters holding Harry and Cedric took hold of it and suddenly colors were buzzing and Harry was spinning - and he landed roughly on his knees in what looked like a giant and grand hall. Cedric was panting and they both looked up warily to catch sight of the Dark Lord as he slowly smiled at them. It was a smile that promised many things, but Harry was not worried for himself, he was worried about Cedric. He was hoping against all odds Cedric would make it out _alive._

“Harry Potter,” The… not so human man sneered in pleasure. “and company.” his eyes strayed over to Cedric who tensed and seemed to attempt to not look away from the scarlet eyes. “I am a merciful Lord,” He continued. “I will not stain your blood on these floors tonight.” Harry almost breathed a sigh of relief but held back waiting for their fate. Harry was young, only 14 years old, but even he knew Voldemort was going to hurt them if he wasn't going to outright kill them then.

“No, I do think I’ll find use in you alive.” the slit nostrils flared as the Dark Lord approached Harry, but his path quickly changed it’s prowling towards - 

“Leave him alone, it’s me you want.” Harry could barely hear himself but Voldemort turned his head to him. “Foolish _child_ you have no power here, I shall do what pleases me.” Then he struck, his long skeletal fingers curling cruelly into Harry’s hair making him scream in pain. Whatever happened in the graveyard was happening again, the Dark Lord’s touch rendering Harry a mess. After the horrific feeling washed away enough for Harry to focus again, he was forced into making direct eye contact with the Dark Lord. The man was so close he could see the disgusting veins pounding on his pale grey head.

“I find your idiotic _brashness_ less insulting and more pitiful than ever.” He let go, causing Harry to fall onto his knees again. 

“Take them to their… rooms.” The Dark Lord smiled again, this time the sick pleasure rolling in waves in the wake of his victory over the helpless boys. The Death eaters quickly ushered Cedric and Harry up, though the Death eater holding him practically dragged him because his legs didn’t seem to work. After a few minutes of being dragged around Harry and Cedric were separated, Harry could only watch in horror as Cedric was dragged away up a flight of stairs while the Death eater leading him simply pushed him down the hall.

Now Harry was truly _alone._

The man (He could tell by his calloused hands large enough to hold both of his wrists; not that it was particularly difficult to _do_ seeing how thin Harry was) stopped finally and pulled a small door open and - _oh the irony -_ it was a godforsaken _Cupboard_ in the grand hallway. 

He didn’t even flinch when he was roughly tossed into said Cupboard. 

Once the door was sealed Harry felt the conjured rope vanish and finally went to rub his (most likely) red wrists. He could barely see the outline of his hand in the dark, only the slight crack under the cupboard door allowed a sliver of light to breach the otherwise pitch black.

Harry sat up, then thought better of it and laid down. He was breathing normally, but he could feel it in his bones. The adrenaline of the night was finally fading, Voldemort was back, Cedric was caught and most likely trapped as well - and Harry could do _nothing._ He started laughing. A hysterical sound that made him shake from head to toe. It was simply too _ironic_ that after eleven years of his life were spent in a cupboard - he was trapped in one again. And the best part? So far Harry thought this wasn't too bad. Sure it was somewhat colder than his cupboard had been, but surprisingly it was far more spacious and had what felt like a metal bucket in the corner to probably piss and shite in. 

That was better than the Dursleys had. And he had a feeling it would most likely vanish any waste he would make because no high and mighty Death eater would allow the stench of piss to cross their noses. Especially if Harry himself was most likely not going to get any showers. 

While there was no springy cot to hold him, the ground was what felt like ancient wood and his magic curled around his head making the wood under it feel softer and almost pillow-like. While he might be wandless, his magic over the years (after discovering what the mysteries force was) had seemingly come alive to help him in little ways such as this. It was all unconsciously done and Harry could hardly direct any meaningful spells like _Alohamora_ but he could heal small wounds and (for some reason) regrow his hair overnight. 

Harry couldn't help but laugh, though it sounded suspiciously like a sob.

All that stress in the Triwizard tournament had finally faded because he might as well have been sentenced to another summer with the Dursleys. _This_ is what Death eaters thought would _break him?_ It was laughable really. The snake-faced lard clearly hadn’t done his research Harry thought. Hopefully Cedric was getting the same treatment because this was hardly the worst thing Harry could think of. 

  
  
  
  


Harry must have fallen asleep because he woke to the sound of the door opening and food being roughly shoved inside. The door slammed closed before Harry could even sit up. Why wouldn’t they just deliver the food magically? Why open the door at all Harry thought. Maybe to taunt him with the idea of escape? It made sense, and it was very in character for Death eaters to taunt their prey with the idea of freedom. Voldemort is the sick type of psycho who’d give them the idea. Hell, the bastard most likely had a plan (or trap) if Harry was to leave the cupboard.

But Harry had no desire to find out what horrors Voldemort created to torment him with and decided to stay inside no matter how tempting freedom was. It would do him no good to go running around without a wand or even a layout of where he was. So he would wait. He knew it was a matter of time before Voldemort got bored of his inaction and he would want to cause Harry _some_ kind of pain. Harry just worried Cedric would be what he focused on to hurt Harry.

So, Harry grabbed the half loaf of stale bread and started eating. The glass of water washed it down and Harry sighed in a strange calm. He wondered when his next meal would be. 

As soon as he placed his empty plate and glass down they vanished. 

  
  
  
  


After four or five days (Harry was unsure when he got his first meal) Harry was laughing more and more at the incompetence of the Death eaters. Really it was quite funny. They were giving him a meal _every single day!_ This _was_ better than the Dursleys! In fact, Harry couldn’t help but smile (though it felt more like baring his teeth into the darkness) because these idiots thought feeding him only one meal a day was going to bother him. Honestly, they needed to take notes from the Dursleys because they made his life more miserable in one day than these Death eaters could in four. 

Beyond the uncontrollable boredom Harry was fine. He simply slipped away into his daydreams to pass the time, thinking about flying, making jokes with Ron and Hermione, learning new and interesting magic, petting Hedwig and feeding her lots of fat mice. 

It was nice not being forced to do all the chores for once. To simply sit and fantasize without interruption (beyond his door opening and blinding him before stale bread and water were placed inside). 

Harry was surprisingly content in the Death eaters care. His eye had finally healed from it’s previously swelled and bruised state.

He just hoped Cedric was okay.

  
  
  
  
  


It had been a long while. Harry’s body ached from sitting for so long but the daily bread and water helped. He lost count a while back but knew Voldemort was going to lose his patience eventually. He couldn’t even see who opened the cupboard door anymore because the light blinded him. He wasn't used to the harsh lights anymore so if he heard someone approaching he’d quickly turn to face away from the door and shut his eyes to avoid going blind again. Honestly it was rather annoying, but then again, he had lived with a pig-boy jumping on the stairs to wake him for years. 

Harry laughed as he daydreamed about said boy getting transfigured into an actual pig. It would have been wicked if Dudley had become a real pig instead of only getting the tail of one.

Hagrid was a great man, Harry missed him dearly. 

Sobering from another laughing fit Harry heard footsteps. Now while it was common to hear footsteps in the hall sometimes; he knew there was a charm that didn’t allow voices or conversations to be heard from inside the cupboard.

He bet no one could hear him from the outside either.

These footsteps however were purposeful, and Harry could feel the anticipation. Was Voldemort finally done waiting for… whatever he was waiting for? The door opened and Harry shut his eyes, curling up slightly as the too bright light blinded him. A man’s hand grabbed his wrists and suddenly his hands were tied with a spell but this time from the front. 

Harry, still unable to really see, kept his eyes shut as the man forced him up and out of the cupboard. Harry’s legs shook slightly from remaining still for so long but he found his strength and kept pace with the quickly moving Death eater.

After a minute or two of walking Harry tried to peep his eyes open (though he could feel a headache already pounding on his skull) and thankfully could see though it was uncomfortably bright. The Death eater no longer wore a mask but Harry could barely make out his profile due to the dark hair blocking his face. Not that it really matters who it was but Harry wanted to see if he knew him.

The Death eater led him up the stairs that looked like they might be the same Cedric was taken up last Harry saw him. Now Harry was nervous, what if Cedric was already dead and they were taking him to his corpse? Or worse, Cedric had been tortured while Harry simply waited for his turn.

It was dreadful, having no idea what lay ahead but the Death eaters grip on his tied hands kept pulling him forward. Harry shakily breathed to try and calm his nerves. Voldemort would most likely keep Cedric alive if he wanted something from Harry, so he had to hope the madman would keep them both alive long enough for… for something to happen. 

Who could even rescue them? No one was powerful enough to stop a giant (Manor?) full of Death eaters, let alone stop Voldemort himself. Even if Dumbledore got in and fought Voldemort what then? Would he rely on the Auror’s? Or would he gather a team from somewhere else? Maybe Moody would help. Harry could see the wildly spinning eye in his head as he thought of the man who was arguably his best Defence teacher yet.

The Death eater stopped at a large and overly grand door. Harry held his breath as he knocked and the Dark Lord’s hiss beckoned them in. The door opened magically and Harry felt his heart pound as he laid eyes on Cedric. 

He could feel his heart break at the image. 

Cedric was in rags, his hair was tangled and his head was bowed as he was placed on his knees in front of Voldemort. Harry didn’t know what they had done to him but he could feel the rage and fear fueling his chest as he was placed on his knees next to Cedric. He hardly noticed the Death eater quickly leave the room, the doors closing slightlently. Harry didn’t want to look away from Cedric but he turned his glare on Voldemort, the fury he held quickly eradicated any cunning he possessed. His mouth was moving before he could think of what to say.

“What did you _do?”_ He hissed with so much anger he thought for a fleeting moment it was in parseltongue. It wasn't though but it didn’t matter. Harry was going to _kill_ Voldemort for this. This was so much worse than he imagined, Cedric looked broken.

Voldemort almost looked taken aback as he stared Harry down. Harry, not feeling patient or scared enough to keep his mouth shut kept speaking. “I’ll kill you. I didn’t want to become a fucking murderer before but I will _kill_ you Tom!” He wished he could lunge at the snake man and strangle his thin neck. The Dark Lord's expression darked at his birth name but didn’t focus on it. Surprisingly the man looked… curious and somewhat intrigued. That itself unnerved Harry and made him remember he should be pissing his pants in terror right about now.

“It has been weeks, and yet your fire has yet to die.” The man stated but his eyes narrowed. “Why are you so seemingly sane? Have you simply been mad before? Are you not _tired_ Harry?” The man did not crouch down before Harry - though he leaned down to get closer to his face. Once again the man’s eyes locked with Harry’s and he seemed even more surprised. “Have you not been affected at all?” The man stood again before he circled Harry like a predator toying with its meal. He felt like he was being examined by a certain teacher but was more unnerved than Snape could ever hope to make him.

“What did you _do_ to him?” Harry demanded again, this time more fearful but he kept his glare on the snake. 

Voldemort simply kept his narrowed eyes on Harry seemingly trying to figure out a puzzle. He kept a relaxed expression but his body was tilted in a way that indicated interest in… well Harry could only guess _him._

“I did nothing more than what I’ve done to you Harry.”

_“Liar!”_ Harry couldn’t help himself from shouting. 

But Voldemort did not look like he was lying. He finally made his way back to the front of Harry. “No, I speak only the truth. This boy has been locked in a small cell for weeks and has received little food to keep him alive. He went mad after the second week.” While Harry’s gut turned with overwhelming guilt for what had happened to the Hufflepuff, he was… not quite understanding.

Harry looked at the Dark Lord after darting his eyes to Cedric trying to comprehend what he just said. How had Cedric gone _Mad?_ Being stuffed into a cupboard for prolonged amounts of time was painful, sure, but Harry had found it to be relieving to have some space to himself (even if it was small). It didn’t make much sense that being stuck in a small area like that would cause Cedric to go Mad in only a few weeks. Harry had lasted plenty of weeks in his cupboard, so surely Voldemort must have done something else. Like keep Cedric under a Crucio, or tormented him verbally, or -

But Voldemort kept talking. 

“I am intrigued on how you have retained your sanity in similar conditions. Care to explain?” The Dark Lord asked (well more so demanded). Harry had no answer really, he doubted Voldemort simply left Cedric like he had Harry. He was somewhat unnerved because the way Voldemort was questioning him… was almost starting to sound like a calm discussion instead of two enemies clashing. “Obviously you did something beyond keeping him locked up! Look at him!” Harry shouted in a somewhat desperate way. There was _no way_ all that happened was Cedric being locked up. There had to be something else. Cedric was _strong,_ he couldn’t be broken so easily… could he?

“It appears my methods were effective for the boy, but not you Harry. Why is that I wonder.” The man lowered his disfigured body somewhat to gaze into Harry’s eyes again making his palms sweat. “Perhaps you have suffered worse torture before?” and suddenly Voldemort stood towering over Harry and Cedric _(who had not moved since Harry stepped in the room)_ with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Yes, I can see it now. You’ve experienced this method of torture before.” Voldemort said with a… frown? Harry was more confused than ever, he’d never suffered any kind of torture beyond what Voldemort had done to him. Being locked in a cupboard was hardly torture, it was just a sick method of humiliation his relatives enjoyed before Harry turned eleven. 

“What are you talking about?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. He was genuinely confused about whatever the hell Voldemort was on about. “You’re the only person sick enough to torture anyone in my life.” He snapped. 

Voldemort didn’t seem to be listening to Harry though, he seemed to be calculating. His eyes finally turned down to Harry again after a moment and suddenly Harry was _falling._

  
  


It felt eerily similar to the pensieve Harry was falling and spinning in the air until he suddenly wasn't. He looked up to see Voldemort was standing above him but not looking at him. No, his eyes were on an all too familiar door. The door to _his_ cupboard.

Harry tried to speak but nothing came out. It was like a silencing spell was placed on him. Voldemort watched as a small version of Harry was roughly pulled into the hall that held the stairs by none other than Aunt Petunia. She yelled something about Harry not finishing his chores in time and now he was to miss supper as punishment. One of her skinny hands was pulling on Harry’s small wrist while the other unlocked the door to the cupboard and slammed it open before shoving the memory Harry in. The memory shifted before Harry could even stand up. 

It was dark, and the cupboard was too small for Harry or Voldemort to fit so like a scene from a movie they were in the darkness surrounding the dim light coming out of the closed cupboard. Floating in the inky depths Harry finally got to his feet to see the Dark Lord watching a young Harry no older than six play with broken soldiers made of cheap plastic. The memory went on for a moment before Harry ran to jump at Voldemort - to get him to stop viewing such _private_ moments of his own _childhood_.

It didn’t matter whether he landed on Voldemort or not because in the next second he snapped his head back and panted, panic crawling in his chest. He was back in the room with Cedric who looked to be drooling. The Dark Lord had just witnessed Harry’s biggest shame. Harry hung his head and stared down at the carpeted floor wishing to be anywhere but here. He didn’t know what was going to happen next but he knew it was going to be horrible. Would Voldemort spread the shameful secret that the wizarding worlds “saviour” (if the newspapers even called him that anymore) had been humiliated time and time again by his mean relatives? Or perhaps he’d torment Harry similarly to how the Dursley’s did - he’d take notes and finally figure out what hurt Harry the most?

Voldemort’s bare feet were in Harry’s peripheral vision but he did not budge. He kept his head firmly down, finally admitting defeat. It was shame that hurt Harry the most. Shame and guilt that he had led Cedric to his doom for saving him. Why couldn’t he have been selfish and taken the cup alone? Why did he have to get Cedric into this mess… where he was now Mad. He could feel tears welling up but fought them off. If he was going to face this he would face it head on. 

“-otter, answer me.” Harry finally paid attention to what Voldemort had been saying. He looked back up at the ugly man with a glare readied.

But he was unprepared for what he got in return.

Voldemort looked… shocked for one. He had an unreadable second emotion hidden in the shocked expression Harry couldn’t make out completely. The snake man then looked furious he turned and stormed over to a table Harry hadn't even noticed in all his panic. The Dark Lord _Shoved the table_ and started angrily destroying it. His magic was almost tangible with how it buzzed in the air. Cedric let out a strange sound that may have been a whimper.

Harry didn’t know what to do. On one hand he was glad Voldemort wasn't punching him around like he was now doing with the chair behind a large desk. This room must have been a study of some kind. On the other hand Harry didn’t know _why_ Voldemort was so angry that he decided ripping up the room with his hands and magic was a good way to vent but maybe he didn’t _want_ to know.

After a minute of destruction the Dark Lord finally seemed to compose himself and whirled around to face Harry again. Harry flinched thinking he was next in the man’s destructive path. After said flinch Voldemort looked _even more_ pissed (somehow). 

“I’m going to _kill_ those insolent little worms for daring to think they could lay a disgusting, filthy hand on a wizard _child!”_ He hissed in what Harry assumed was parseltongue. Then, he snarled and disappeared. He must have apparated somewhere - and for some reason Harry a feeling he was about to kill - 

But after what could have only been _30 damn seconds_ the Dark Lord had returned with two figures who dropped like stones on the ground. Harry couldn’t believe his eyes at who laid before him. It was his Aunt and Uncle, both who looked so terrified Harry never thought he’d see such expressions on either party. His Uncle quivered but surprisingly covered his wife with his humongous body. Aunt Petunia looked like she was getting the life squashed out of her and her face was turning a startling shade of blue. Voldemort started down at both of them with intense fury. 

“You shall never again lay hands on him. Never shall your wretched filth harm another.” Both his Aunt and Uncle looked at him as Voldemort spoke, clearly they knew they were about to die - hell, Harry knew that the second they arrived they were done for. But the way they looked at him _hurt._ Uncle Vernon stared at him with fear, disgust, and even the quiet fury ever present since Harry could remember. Even as the man was about to die he held no sympathy or remorse for his actions. He could tell the man blamed Harry for all of this. But Pentuina, even being crushed by her husband, looked at Harry with watery eyes that conveyed fear, and an almost apologetic pleading look. Harry was breathing harshly but he could barely hear it over the ringing in his ears as Voldemort lifted his wand pointing right at Vernon. 

_“Crucio.”_ the color red egardly sprung from the man's wand as he hissed the spell.

His Uncle started flailing, screaming in pain. His Aunt looked up in horror as Vernon started foaming from the mouth and Harry realized very quickly that Wizards had magic to (somewhat) fight off spells; meaning a Crucio to a muggle was much stronger than it would be on any wizard. The effects a wizard might see under a Crucio could take minutes before any actually happened - Vernon was already foaming at the mouth, and now his hands had started clawing at his face. Petunia shrieked and wailed as much as she could as she watched her husband whither and seize on top of her. 

Harry couldn’t look, but his eyes were glued onto his Uncle and Aunt as they suffered. He felt sick. “Stop,” Harry whimpered but Voldemort was still holding Vernon under the Crucio. Aunt Petunia's pristine hair was in disarray, her eyes were bloodshot and she looked close to passing out. When Uncle Vernon's body was simply twitching ever second or so Voldemort finally lifted the Unforgivable. 

Uncle Vernon already looked dead. 

Harry was barely breathing and yet he kept taking too many big breaths to actually get any air into his lungs. His stomach was in knots churning and aching as he miserably watched Petunia struggle to get out from underneath her dead (or dying) husband. It was no use because Voldemort simply let her squirm before silently casting _Avada Kedavra._ The green light engulfed Harry’s vision once more, reminding him of his own mothers death as her sister suffered the same fate.

Silence filled the room once her screams stopped. 

Harry looked up at Voldemort unable to process what just happened fully as said man flicked his wand and suddenly the bodies were gone. Vanished like some waste. Harry couldn’t cry for them because he was more shocked by how violently they were murdered. He didn’t really hate them enough for them to die, especially not like this. 

And yet, he wasn't that sad to see them go.

Voldemort cleared his throat and Harry caught his gaze once more. “You are to ensure that filthy muggle hands shall _never_ graze your skin again.” The snake-faced bastard approached Harry once more, the room around them was fixing itself (first the seat and then the desk-) as he strode over to his prey. 

“I had not expected such a turn of events Harry,” Then he smiled, this time it was the most genuine smile He’d ever seen the Dark Lord wear - not even Tom Riddle’s memory had been this close to slipping the mask off. 

“I never thought of it until earlier today; my sanity had spiraled, I’ve felt unstable and deranged until I recovered Nagini. Until I brought my ring, the goblet,”He almost whispered it as the smile turned farther up, his eyes lighting with delight.

“until I had _you.”_

His long skeletal fingers grabbed Harry’s jaw squeezing just enough to keep Harry grounded in the moment ( _don’t think about how her eyes seemed ready to pop out of her skull as her husband thrashed in pain on top of her trying to protect her-)_ the red eyes locked with his.

“Harry Potter, the so called saviour is expected to endure pain, and was planned to _die_ by my wand. Irony has never been stronger seeing as you hold a piece that keeps me alive.” Harry didn’t understand, but the Dark Lord continued. “Ironic how the saviour was intended to die the entire time. Dumbledore is quite the schemer, but I’ve seen through his tricks.” He hissed and tilted Harry’s head slightly to get a better look at the scar marking Harry. 

“You are mine Harry, I do _not_ allow any to harm what is mine.” Harry could feel his heart stop then and there. _What?_

“Do not fret, I shall see to your needs.”

Harry passed out.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo that was something huh?
> 
> I wrote this prompt and then proceeded to write this... it was fun!
> 
> here's the prompt:
> 
> Harry gets captured by old voldie and what better way to torture a small teen than to use isolation in a tiny room? Surely that'll cause the boy to break!
> 
> ....
> 
> Except Harry's an expert at living in small isolated areas and hardly bats an eye at this "torture" method. He doesn't see it as a torture method at all and hardly thinks it would cause poor Cedric to go Mad. 
> 
> ...
> 
> Poor Cedric :(


End file.
